A Tale From the Mind of a Teenage Antichrist
by Zenith Aquilla
Summary: Let me tell you a story, about a little doll. Who couldn't understand why everyone called her broken when she felt... just.. fine.
1. Walk Away

"STOP! PUT HIM DOWN!" Dean roared. He was so mad. It was my fault. I wanted him mad. Taking a deep breath I tilted my head, squinting at him.

"Why."

"You haven't killed before," after a beat, "You can still walk away."

"I?" I placed a hand on my chest, "I haven't killed before? News to me!" Sam let out a grunt, feet squirming in the air. Realizing I was losing control I loosened my hold.

"What?"

"Mommy dearest? Bye bye," I waved mockingly.

"Why?" he looked so confused. It was funny.

"Well, let's see," I placed a finger on my chin. I let Sam go and he toppled to the ground next to his brother, "When I was born, she took me to Mr. Michello. Or I guess Father Michello. After you killed my dad she thought just maybe you'd kill whatever of him was in me, but Father said no."

"Your dad was a possessed man. He raped your mother and was going to kill her," Sam cut in. I clenched my fist and the room shook.

"No inter RUPTING!" I hissed and everything was quiet, "He was my _dad_! But it didn't matter. I went to church every day because Father told my mom he could help me. Twelve years later he changed his mind. I didn't know what was going on. I thought he was possessed by the devil. Turns out it was just an angel."

"His name was Adriel and he told my mom, under the _guise of Father Michello_ ," my voice broke and I blinked furiously, "That it was too late. That I had to die. When I went in for my session the next night she STOOD THERE! She WATCHED while he came at me with his- his KNIFE so…" I trailed off and the brothers looked at me expectantly.

"So I killed them," I smiled bitterly, shaking my head, "I didn't feel bad. I still don't. I know what I am now. Adriel told me. I'm cambion," I looked back up at Sam and Dean, "A fancy word for antichrist."

"We can help you."

I laughed, "Help me what? I'm doing great. You're the ones who need help. And Sam? I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have tried to sneak up behind me. I'm going to leave now and if you ever, ever come after me again I _will_ kill you."

I'd been fifteen when it happened. The first time I'd been hunted. Two more years, two more bodies, and I was back in Oregon. Unfortunately for me Sam and Dean were as well.


	2. Medford Again

"Can you tell me why you're here?"

The interrogation room was as plain and white as the interrogator.

"Cause I stole a bike," when I promised myself I was going straight I meant demon wise, not any other wise. No more abilities.

"A seven hundred dollar Kawasaki Motorcycle," he corrected me and I rolled my eyes.

"I didn't steal it. The sales guy gave it to me," it was true. I'd been thinking about how much I wanted the bike and ten minutes later I was driving it home. Five minutes four cop cars and one very confused sales person later I was sitting pretty in the police station.

"We have a sworn statement from him saying otherwise," the rookie cop leaned forward, "I'll ask you one more time…"

Electing to stop paying attention I slouched in my chair, watching the station go by through the big glass window. People streamed back and forth like ants. People in uniforms. People in suits. Two people in suits. Two men. Brothers.

I blanched, shooting upright in my chair, "I did it I stole the bike!"

"What? Uh I mean you have the right to an attorney. You'll be spending the night in county unless you post bail or…"

"Bail? Fine! You want money, here!" I reached under the table and came back up with a handful of twenties, "Bye!" I stood up, stepping towards the door.

"You can't just-"

" _Medford again_?"

" _There've been half a dozen deaths we can't just-_ " Sam Winchester's eyes locked with mine through the glass.

Fuck.

Sam put his hand in front of Dean's chest, not breaking eye contact. Dean looked up and a second later I was somewhere else entirely.

Fuckity fuck fuck, I paced back and forth. I hadn't focused on where I was going, but it had to be somewhere around the edges of downown. Running my fingers through my hair I fell to my knees. I wasn't going to use my abilities I SAID no abilities why didn't I listen?!

Short it was so short why'd I cut it myself? Choppy and blonde and landing around my chin I could've gotten a haircut anytime I wanted why didn't I get a haircut? My clothes were all ripped. People shouldn't teleport clothes definitely shouldn't teleport. Think of little things. I need new clothes.

I need new knee socks and a new white blouse and a new skirt. Or I could get something different. Or I could keep the torn ones. Ripped socks were cool. The blouse would have to go.

Besides the boys, in Medford I felt very safe. Even though I was in ripped up clothes in the bad part of town late at night. The boys were the only ones who've ever gotten a one up on me.

I blinked in surprise as something fell over my eyes. I screamed. It burned it burned so bad. Nothing had ever burned so bad.

"STOP IT!" I screeched clawing at my eyes, "S-stop it…" I sobbed and everything went black.


	3. No Need

" _It's not a demon_."

" _Then what the hell is it_?"

" _Holy water worked pretty fucking well_."

" _Shut up its waking up_."

"'It's' got a name," I rolled my neck, "And what the hell was that stuff?" I casually glanced down. My hands were bound to the arms of a chair. I blinked but I didn't go anywhere. I frowned.

"Problem bitch?" the voice was right next to my ear and I flinched hard, "That there's a devil's trap. You're not going anywhere."

"We're gonna do a couple little… experiments," it was a woman's voice. Bitter- maybe southern? Pleased as punch.

"Here," a strong hand gripped my chin and a grimy cup was pressed to my mouth. My face curled in disgust but they pinched my nose and unwillingly I swallowed.

"Ew," I coughed, wiping my mouth with my shoulder, "Was that-?"

"Saltwater," the lady finished, "No effect."

"It tasted pretty nasty."

"Why'd you kill those women?" the man cut in.

"I didn't kill anyone."

The man stepped into view. Bad shave. Dirty. Baseball cap. Jeans and a jacket. Stepping forward he uncorked his flask and poured it over my head. I screamed, straining against the ropes.

"WHY'D YOU KILL THEM?"

"I DIDN'T!"

"More holy water," he growled.

"We don't have more holy water," she hissed.

"Salt doesn't work try iron."

He pulled a knife out of his belt, twisting it nimbly through his fingers.

"No. Stop it STOP IT!" I winced as he dug the blade into my skin.

"It's not- like- smoking," the lady put her hands on her lips. She was maybe thirty, forty maybe with dirty blonde hair and rosy lips. Wrinkles around her eyes made her look older than she was.

"It doesn't demon work but it sure as hell works."

"What if she's a human…"

"The holy water," he reminded her.

"Hold up, iron and salt are for exorcising, holy water and devils trap are containment."

"A demon that exorcising doesn't work on can't be exorcised, so it has its own body, presumably a human body. A demon that's always a human…"

"Holy shit."

"What?"

"What d'you get when you add a human and a demon?"

"Holy shit."

"We caught the fucking antichrist."

I twisted around in my chair. Tears streamed down my cheeks I was so helpless I've never been so helpless. These guys, these hunters were good. Better than me. They were going to kill me. Can I die? I'd never even thought of it. I wasn't really bleeding anymore. I still hurt but I wasn't bleeding at all.

"She's not bleeding anymore," he mirrored my thoughts.

"It doesn't fucking matter," the lady grinned, "We caught the antichrist you know how huge that is? Do we put it down now? Do we call someone?"

"No need," a gun clicked from somewhere behind me, "We'll take her off your hands."

"No I'll stay here thanks," I tried to turn around and face him but I was a bit restricted. Sam and Dean any day of the week were far more competent than any other hunter I'd seen, and I was completely incapacitated. Last time I'd seen the Winchesters I almost killed Sam, and then threatened to kill them both if I saw them again. Dean was behind me and I'd never felt so scared.

"The Winchesters?"

"What the hell?"

"No need for formalities hand over the girl," Dean took a step forward.

"No, this is huge," the woman folded her arms and the man branded his knife. "This is the antichrist. It killed six people. We're handling this one."

"Eight," Dean corrected.

"Four," I corrected.

"You didn't-?" Dean started, "Wait, four?"

"No, I didn't. And I didn't have a choice. Tell them to let me go."

"I'll give you to the count of three. One. Two," Dean frowned.

"Fine!" the man broke, "Take her she's yours. You ruined a hell of a story."

Dean nodded, moving forward.

"Wait!" the woman warned and I cursed, "Holy water works. Devil's trap works. Not much else."

"Huh," Dean smirked, "Holy water."

"Listen, bud," I gave a huge plastic smile, "I'd rather not spend the rest of my young years running from you and your dumb brother-"

"Right outside!" Sam called and I bit my lip.

"So I cross my little heart that I'll help you find the lady killer in town if you leave me the hell alone after that cool?"

"How do I know I can trust you?" he squinted.

"One way to find out," I shrugged, "What other choice do you have?"

Dean nodded to the woman. She smeared the markings on the floor with her foot and cut my ties. Rubbing my wrists I winked at Dean, teleporting away.

Appearing behind him I laughed, "Just testing you," he whipped around, aiming the gun at my chest, "Ready to catch a monster?"


	4. Trust Issues

"Where do we start?" the boys had taken me to their apartment, and I wore one of dean's flannels over my socks and skirt.

"They all had the same, um, career of choice," Sam sifted through the papers.

"Hookers?" I peered around his shoulder.

"Don't," Same stood upright, "Don't do that."

"Don't mistake not killing you for trusting you," Dean shot and I sneered at him.

"Yeah well same goes for me. Fifteen year old me handed your ass to you and so can I," I folded my arms.

"Funny, it looked a little different in that hunter nest," Dean raised an eyebrow.

I huffed, turning around. Not facing them seemed easier than putting together an answer.

"So…" Sam trailed off, "Where do we start?"

"We're looking for hookers and… how'd they die again?" I sat Indian style on the corner of their bed.

"Completely torn apart," Dean glanced at me.

"Okay we're looking for hookers and hooker-tear-aparters lets go," I jumped to my feet.

"Whoa!" Dean put up his hand, "You- are not going anywhere."

"That'd be true exceeeept," I popped the t, "Hate to pull the antichrist card but I can teleport anywhere anytime I want."

"Fine, but you're sitting in the back and you're doing it very, very quietly, capiche?" Dean slammed the door. Rolling my eyes I followed, mumbling about stupid boys and their dumb cars.


	5. Undercover

"Hey gorgeous," a boy with lazy eyes and a bright red Mohawk waltzed up, sporting more piercings than ears.

"Hi," I smiled, sitting lightly on the roof of a nearby car.

"What's a girl like you doin' in a-" I cut him off, jumping to my feet.

"Undercover agent Jane Smith!" I whipped the badge the boys had given me out of my waistband.

"I didn't do it- it was my brother!" he gulped, "We have the same prints and-"

"Shut up," I huffed, "Do the names Stacie Belle, Pixie Dale, Cherry Pie, Candy D., Angel Raymond, or Anastasia mean anything to you?"

"C-Candy D.? Candy D's a stripper n-not that I'd no anything abou-about that," he murmured.

"Yeah I know she's a stripper what else."

"That's it that's everything!"

He was far to hammered to realize this small seventeen year old girl could in no way be a cop. I narrowed my eyes and he scurried away.

Crossing my arms I sat back on the car. It was dark and silent but there were still so many noises that came with it. Animals, small ones everywhere. Cars every so often. A man. He was… bleeding?

"Hey!" I called, "Hey are you okay?"

"P-please help me… I'm so lost I'm.. oh god the blood," his brown hair was tangled, falling past his neck. What was probably once a suit was in tatters.

"W-whoa what's your name?" I put my hands up cautiously.

"W-well it was David Ragen o-or it is David Ragen… it is Satmar- or maybe it was," he stammered, clutching his head, "Everything- is- so- blurry."

"I'm gonna get help- SAM?" I asked, "DEAN?"

I looked back and he was gone, the dirty alley innocently staring back as if to say 'What? No one was here. Just me and you.' Frowning I head back to the Impala.


	6. Fat Lot of Good

"David Ragen."

"What?" Sam looked up from his computer.

"I ran into him last night," I lay stomach up on Dean's bed, toying with one of his knives. He noticed and snatched it out of my hands, "He seemed a 'lil suspicious. His clothes were torn up and he was kinda shaky on his name. I'm thinkin' werewolf but no full moon."

"And you wait until now to tell us?" Dean swiveled around in his chair.

"Oh and something about a Satmar?"

"You are literally impossible," he turned back to his work.

"Dave Ragen," Sam read, "Upstanding citizen, college graduate, general nice guy."

"Doesn't mean he can't wolf out."

"What about a Leshy?" Dean threw out, "Shapeshift, trickster, kidnap young women…"

"These weren't kidnaped they were torn apart," Sam reminded him.

"Wendigo?"

"Probably not."

"Guys," they looked at me, "Why don't we pay him a visit? We don't have any other leads and he's not exactly hiding.

Me in Dean's flannel and the brothers in suits we rang the Ragen's doorbell. No one answered.

"Stop, don't pick the lock," I sighed as they continued to pick the lock, letting themselves inside, "Holy shit."

Blood was everywhere, splattered over the walls and the furniture, dripping down into pools on the floor. A woman lay mangled in the middle. Petite. Late twenties. Brown hair stained red.

"Well I'm going to vomit," I swiveled around, stepping outside, "Tell me when you're done."

Twenty minutes later police tape lined the house and we stood respectfully on the lawn.

"Teresa Ragen," Sam murmured, "Twenty-nine. Married two years."

"Fat lot of good it did her," Dean whispered back.

"He was so confused…" I trailed off, "Not werewolf, not shapeshifter. Unless each form has a different name," I whipped out my phone, googling Samtar. Hebrew mythology. Yiddish.

"Guys," I shoved my phone between them, "Check this out."

"Dybbuk," Dean read, "Form of demonic possession- yadda yadda- lost souls- destruction and mayhem, listen to this. 'The thing itself is a broken soul desperately trying to find something to support itself. But the creature never quite knows what is going on and can only cause pandemonium.'"

"How d'you kill one? Or at least- get one out of David Ragen?" Sam asked.

"We'll need bait."

They both turned to me.

"Oooh no," I laughed nervously, "Nothing doing."

"You're the frickin antichrist," Dean insisted, "If you're uncomfortable or whatever teleport the hell out of there."

"Fine," I huffed, "But you owe me big time. And if I die… oh I've been meaning to ask about that. Can I die?"

"We'll talk about it later. In the meantime, we gotta get you ready for tonight," Dean grinned.


	7. The Trap

"Heeey! Buddy! David?" I walked down the street, pulling at my short dress. Even though we pretty much figured he's just really confused, and he probably killed the hookers because they approached him, somehow I was still in fishnets and a hot pink tube dress. It had to be at least three am even though they dropped me off at midnight. The plan was they'd leave me where I found Davey boy yesterday and then I'd lure him to the apartment. So far it wasn't going super well, "Samtar?"

"Huh?"

"Hey!" I ran forward, stumbling over the ridiculous heels Dean gave me. David, or Samtar I guess was huddled at the end of the alley, his clothes in even worse condition. He was shivering, underneath a cardboard teepee, "Buddy, you doin' alright?"

He looked up at me with huge eyes. Tears ran down his face, staining the remnants of a dress shirt, "I-I'm so sorry I d-didn't know… she was s-so nice…"

"Teresa?"

"Y-yeah. I didn't m-mean to hurt her," he sobbed.

"No, no shh its okay buddy," I helped him up, "Come on home with me alright? We'll sort this out, okay?"

He nodded and I wrapped my arm around his, pulling him towards our motel. As we walked I decided to start the interrogation.

"Why'd you hurt those ladies?" he sniffed loudly and I knew I breached a sensitive topic, "I know you didn't mean to."

"They w-were all so nice," he pouted, "They had me g-go with them, to their places and then- and then-"

I gulped, done asking questions. Helping him inside I locked the door and sat him down on the bed. Sam and Dean stepped out and he looked up, confused.

" _Kingdoms fun di erd , zingen antu got_ ," Dean read, " _Preyzaz tsu di har az firn hekher di himl fun himl tsu der mzrkh. Ze , er sendz aroys zeyn eygn kul, di shtime fun virtue. Atribut di virtue tsu got_."


	8. Angel Blade

"Why isn't it working?"

"I translated it to freaking Yiddish and everything!" Dean huffed.

"You- you were trying to- make me leave?" he looked up. His eye flashed orange, "I don't want to leave!" the room started shaking. Books exploded off shelves and all the lights in the room shattered one by one.

"DEAN!" I shouted, grabbing the first knife I could find and tossing it over Samtar's head.

"Angel blade? Really?" Dean cocked his head, grabbing the dagger midair. He thrusted at Samtar who ducked just in time. I gaped up at Dean, looking between him and the knife sticking out of my chest. Sam grabbed another knife off the wall in the confusion, pushing it through Samtar's neck. He fell to the floor in a heap.

I teleported across the room against my will, collapsing on the other side. My body shook, like it was trying to move away from the danger.

"W-we were gonna have a talk Dean?" my voice shook, "About h-how to kill an antichrist?"

"An angel blade," he was barely above a whisper, "The only thing we figured can kill cambion is an angel blade."

"Sweet," I breathed, leaning against the wall, "Don't worry about it. They'll find me 'n David here and just assume he killed his- his last hooker," I tried to laugh but all that came out was a weak gurgle.

"Guys I-" suddenly I was looking at them from the other side of the room.

"Hey. Hey!" Dean rushed towards the corner, leaning over someone, "Stay with us! C'mon!"

"Dean-" I choked and they turned away from my body. Their eyes… they looked like David's. When he'd been talking about Teresa. Distressed I looked between them, tears dotting my vision.

"The antichrist doesn't get a heaven- does she?" I murmured. Everything was getting darker and darker, Sam and Dean and the apartment fading into each other.

"Guys…" I sobbed.

"No! No you can stay you can…" Sam rushed forward. The last thing I felt was him passing through me as everything faded away.


End file.
